He sighed heavily then abruptly stood up so that he could begin pacing. His long strides crossing the room within a few steps before he turned and retraced his steps, over and over. His hands were folded behind his back as he pondered how to say what he needed to say.
Her brow narrowed as she watched him. He was upset. Was his mind already off thinking about his mission? Had he already forgotten about her and began thinking about what he must do next?
“Our paths will cross,” he said without looking at her. “Olivia’s party for instance. Balls, events.”
She could only stare at him.
He sighed heavily. “At these meetings. It may seem as if I am cold. Distant.”
The thought of him being cold to her sent a searing pain to her chest. To love someone so much and have them act as if she barely existed. How would she handle such a cut?
“It is important that we not be attached to each other. Besides Lord Hicks. We must also worry about the old biddies of the ton. As you said, nothing can be allowed to hint at our … time together.”
Her heart twisted into a knot as she fought to breathe. The pain was overwhelming.
“I promise you, Lord Warwick,” she forced herself to say as her world ended. “I will do nothing to bring you shame. No overt displays of affection. No one will ever know. Not because of my actions.”
He stopped pacing to turn and stare at her.
“I was more worried about myself actually,” he said with a sad smile. “I am going to have to fight the urge to sweep you into my arms. Not to say anything of how difficult it is going to be to not challenge half the men of the ton to a duel for merely glancing your way.”
She almost laughed at his silliness until she saw how serious he was being. He really did care for her, she realized. A fact that only made the pain inside of her even more intense.
Grimacing she bit her lip and let him finish.
“So,” he began again. “If it appears I am cold to you. Please be aware that it is not how I truly feel, but my method of dealing with the issue. If I allow myself to express how I really feel, then we will both be exposed. I assure you.”
A man playing a role, she realized.
Her stomach released from its knot of turmoil as she fought to stop herself from telling him how much she loved him. No, she thought it wouldn’t be fair to add to his guilt. It wouldn’t be right to add to his burdens.
He needed to focus on this task for the government. She needed to let him go without adding obstacles to his life.
“I understand Lord Warwick.”
The tall man looked back at her with a strange twist in his eyes. As if he were thinking thoughts three layers deeper than any man had ever faced before.
“It is important to me,” he said. “That you understand. I do not want your feelings hurt.”
Smiling bravely, she studied him for a long moment then nodded. “Lord Warwick, you need never worry. Our … time together … has been wonderful. An interlude that will become one of the most important moments of my life. But we both know it cannot continue. But I will always thank you for it.”
Taking a deep breath, he said, “Good day, Amanda. Please know that you will always be special to me. Always my Angel”
Her eyes grew misty as a sudden fear passed through her. She must not cry in front of him.
He continued to stare at her for a long moment, his lips set in a firm line. Each second drawing her closer to losing control of her emotions.
She thought for a moment that he might say something more as his brow furrowed and his eyes looked into hers. Something important. But instead, he sighed heavily as if he had changed his mind and merely nodded to her again, then turned and left.
The door closed behind him and her world crumbled into tears. Ugly tears that threatened to never stop.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lord Warwick grumbled to himself as he stepped into the back alley. Never had he felt so empty leaving a woman’s bed. This sense of loss, of a world gone wrong, was something he promised himself to never experience again.
This was what happened when a rake became involved with an angel.
She was so remarkable in so many ways. It had hurt his soul to leave her. Her soft skin glowing in the lamplight. The way she had looked at him. As if he were the most important thing in the universe. It was a look that could make a man feel invincible.
If a woman such as Amanda Waters could find some worth in him, then surely, his life had meant something.
Sighing heavily, he hurried through the alley, out into the street, and around the corner. There was so much to do if he was to be ready before Olivia’s ball. But as he walked, he could not stop himself from thinking of the woman he had left behind.
NO. he told himself. Do not let Amanda distract you. Too many important things depended upon him completing this mission. Too many lives hung in the balance.
Pushing the memories of their time together aside, he focused on his job. But deep in the back of his mind. Those memories were locked away to be brought out whenever he wished. The knowledge was both pleasing and soul-shakingly sad.
Such perfection, and he had lost it. Walked away. How could he have been such an idiot?
Because that was what she wanted, he reminded himself. What she had demanded in fact. Her words had been explicit without any hint of ambiguity. No subtle suggestion that he convince her otherwise.
The memory ate at him as he pondered her words. She had no wish to marry. She had been very firm in her statement. And in all truth, there was no other possibility. Not unless she was willing to burn her connections within society.
Really, an independent woman did change things. There were no pressures on her to marry. No levers for him to pull.
The thought made him shake his head. Leave it to him to desire the one woman who had no need of his wealth or status.
They might be able to keep their affair secret he thought for a hopeful moment. For a short period at least. He was very good at such things after all. But eventually. Something would slip. Some glance across a crowded room. A word of endearment. A touch in public. Something would get the tongues wagging and they would be discovered.
No, he must not allow that to happen. Amanda deserved the life she wanted.
Sighing again, he wove his way through a line of carriages and cabs as he hurried across the street. The strong scent of horses, coal smoke and too many people hit him like a shovel upside the head. You’re not in bed with her anymore, he reminded himself, focus.
Ducking into another alley he looked both ways to ensure no one was watching. Once things were clear, he reached down behind a dustbin and removed a ratty old brown coat.
Pulling the ribbon from his hair, he slipped out of the Higginbottom cutaway coat and into the brown coat. He pulled his cravat away with a strong tug and opened his top button. He once again glanced up and down the alley to make sure he was still unobserved. Seeing that he maintained his anonymity, he rubbed his hands in the dirt and wiped his cheek before he ruffled his hair.
As a final touch, he pulled at his hose, leaving a gap between the left one and his breeches.
There, he was, now a common workman. What would Amanda think if she saw him? he wondered with a smile. Knowing her, she’d silently shake her head then shot him a quick glance of approval at his disguise. The woman understood. That was one of the many things he enjoyed about her. There was never a need to explain the small details.
He folded the black coat, placed the starched white cravat into a pocket and placed the bundle behind the dustbin then hurried out into the street. Jack Warden, common laborer.
Once on the street, he turned towards the east. Sanderson was to meet him at the Boars Head two streets over. He’d sent word earlier that morning. It was important that they get started. With Amanda’s amazing discovery, now they had a path to follow. A way to see this through.
And then? He wondered. Then, perhaps he could attack his true problem. What
to do with Miss Amanda Waters? For under no circumstances was he allowing her to walk away. Not without a fight.
.o0o.
Amanda stepped into her home to find her new footman, Anderson, holding up a side table in the parlor while Molly swept under it. Amanda quietly smiled to herself. Both Molly and herself together couldn’t have lifted that table.
“Your home, Mum,” Molly said with surprise as her eyes quickly ran over her, obviously examining for any signs of distress.
Amanda fought the urge to run her hand over her hair. She had been in such a hurry to leave that morning that she worried she had not given it the care she should have.
As she remembered her night, her heart broke again. A situation she knew full well would reoccur for the rest of her life.
Molly gave her a questioning look that sent a cold shiver down her spine. Be careful, Amanda told herself. Molly must never discover that she had spent the night in a man’s bed. She could never know about Lord Warwick.
“Was it an enjoyable evening Mum?” Molly asked.
Amanda almost winced. No one had ever had a more enjoyable evening even if it had been mixed with such a sad cloud hanging in the air.
“Yes, it was,” she said as she placed her reticule on a table. “It went rather late though. I do believe I will take a quick rest.”
Molly studied her for a long moment then finally nodded. “Of course, Mum. I will call you for dinner.”
Amanda nodded as she began the long trek up the stairs to her room. Once she was there, she sighed heavily as she lay down. Her world was over. Any chance of happiness was gone. Gone the moment he turned and left.
“Well, what did you expect,” she whispered to herself. She had sent him away. Told him that they could no longer be together. But could they? She wondered as she turned onto her side and pulled a pillow close to hug it to her chest.
No, she thought. No, not if she was to maintain her place in society. Not if she wanted to remain friends with Olivia and the others. No, they couldn’t. Besides. Lord Warwick had given no hint that he might want to continue. No words of forever.
True, he had regretted their parting. She had seen it in his eyes. But perhaps that was merely the regrets of a man who would miss an opportunity for more liaisons.
No, it was better this way. Better that she end it now. True her heart was broken. But someday, perhaps, it might heal.
Closing her eyes, she tried to push the memories away, but they refused to leave. All she could dream of was the way it felt to be held by him. That sense of safety and security. His strong arms cradling her as if she were special. As if she mattered to him. Something precious to protect.
Wiping at a tear, she sighed and turned over, keeping the pillow clamped to her chest.
And there was no one she could talk to. No one to unburden herself to. Olivia would never understand. Not really. She might pretend, but there would be that hint of disapproval in the back of her eyes.
Now that she was married, Olivia had really become rather … not prudish … more conservative though. Perhaps it was motherhood. That sense of protectiveness made her view everything by how it would impact her child’s future.
Friendship with a fallen woman would not be allowed. The example she set as a countess was important to Olivia. She would never bring shame to Bradford’s name. No, Amanda would never put her friend in that situation.
No, Olivia was out.
Lady Weston? Amanda snorted a laugh through her tears at the thought. The woman would roll her eyes. Tell her to not let it happen again, and cluck her tongue as she gave her a serious look of disapproval.
Amanda’s breath caught as she realized the only person she could share such a secret with had walked out of her life that very morning.
Sighing heavily, she lay there, wide awake until Molly tapped at the door and informed her that dinner was ready.
Amanda forced herself to get up out of bed when all she really wanted was to hide in a deep dark hole and never come out. But that would not do. Not if she wanted to keep her secret. So she washed her face, fixed her hair, and set her shoulders. Now was the rest of her life. Best that she start pretending that everything was fine.
What is he doing now? She wondered as she lifted up a spoonful of soup. Was he all right? Was he thinking of her?
Her heart twisted itself into a tight knot as she closed her eyes and tried to push the memories away. Careful, she reminded herself. No one must know. She would have to suffer this exquisite pain all alone.
Sighing, she took another bite. Alone. That was to be her lot in life.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lord Warwick nodded to the jailer as the man turned to lead him down the row of cells.
“Here, M’Lord,” the man said as he inserted a key into the heavy iron door. “This one shouldn’t be a problem. As frightened as a trapped mouse, he is.”
Warwick nodded as the large jailer pulled the heavy door open to expose Freddie Bartholomew sitting scrunched up in the far corner, his hands wrapped around his knees. His forehead beaded with sweat despite the cold damp cell. His face as white as a Dover cliff.
“Freddie,” Lord Warwick said as he clucked his tongue. “You seem to have come into some difficulty.”
“My Lord,” the man said as he jumped up, his face twisting back and forth between hope and full-on terror. “Tell them, Tell them they have the wrong man,” he pleaded.
The prisoner's eyes darted to the door then back at him, obviously wondering if he might escape. Yes, just like a trapped mouse, Warwick thought. The jailer had been rather accurate.
He turned and nodded to his escort who pushed the door closed with a heavy clang. Warwick watched with an internal smile as Freddy’s face fell. The man deserved everything that was to come to him.
Warwick silently observed the man to confirm that his orders of good treatment had been carried out. It was not that he particularly cared for Mr. Bartholomew’s welfare. More that he believed he might gain more with a carrot than a stick. Besides, if the carrot didn’t work, he could always shift his approach.
“There is no hope for you, I’m afraid,” Lord Warwick said. “They have more than enough. Really, six hundred pounds. That is all it took to sell your country over to that Corsican monster. Lord Hicks has played you for a fool. You could have easily gotten more. Much more.”
Freddie’s eyes grew big, the fact that they had the exact amount he had received obviously came as a shock.
Warwick purposely turned his back on the man as he began to pace. Yes, he had chosen the right target, he realized. If any of them were to cooperate, it would be dear Freddie. But that was not why he had the King’s men arrest him.
No, this was all about pressure. While the arrest had been quiet, rumors would circulate. If necessary, he would start them himself. His men were in place. If any of the scoundrels tried to flee, his men were ready.
Once Hicks got word of Bartholomew’s arrest, perhaps, if they were lucky, he would contact his conduit back to France. That was the key. The thing he needed most. And again, his men would be there.
If not, it would at least make tomorrow’s gala at Olivia’s rather exciting. If Hicks showed up, that was. Yet, it if he didn’t. It would almost be as if he were admitting he had something to hide. No, the man would be there. He believed himself too smart to ever be caught.
Even now, if Freddie talked. It would simply be his word against a Lord’s
No, Warwick thought as he continued to pace. They would need more.
“Freddie,” he said with a large smile. “Did you know that the punishment for treason is the ax. Not the noose. A small detail, but rather interesting, don’t you think.”
Freddie’s gulped as a trickle of sweat slowly rolled down his cheek. “What can I do?” he asked. “Anything, My Lord, anything.” The hopeful tone of his voice was belied by the fear in his eyes.
“Well, Freddie, maybe, just maybe,” Lord Warwick said, “I might be able to save
your head and have you transported to one of the penal colonies. I am told that Australia can do wonders for a man’s health. At least when compared to the alternative.”
“Anything,” the prisoner said as he reached out and grabbed Lord Warwick’s hand. “Anything, I promise.”
Lord Warwick laughed to himself. This was Hicks’ fatal flaw, believing a traitor wouldn’t sell him out. Once a man had compromised his honor, it became so much easier to do it again.
“Well, Freddie,” Lord Warwick said as he pulled his hand out of the man’s grasp. Being touched by scum like this made him feel dirty. “I have a job for you. A simple task that I will explain later. But first, you must tell me everything. Names, dates, everything. And leave nothing out, I will know.”
The young man swallowed hard and then nodded. Lord Warwick shook his head, it had been almost too easy. But it was only because Amanda had discovered the remaining names that he could take this risk.
“Guard,” Lord Warwick yelled. “A table, chairs, pen, and paper. I do believe we are going to need a lot of paper. Aren’t we Freddie.”
The prisoners swallowed hard and slowly nodded.
.o0o.
Amanda closed her eyes as Molly pulled a brush through her hair. Stay calm, she thought to herself. It is only a dance.
“You are going to be the bell of the ball, Mum,” Molly said with a smile in her voice. “A princess. That shade of blue for your gown. A wise choice, it brings out your eyes Mum.
Amanda pushed up her spectacles and smiled at her maid in the looking glass.
Would Warwick like it, she wondered? That was the important question.
A week, she thought. It had been a week since he had left her. How was he? Had he made any progress? These and a thousand other questions danced in her head while she fought to calm a tumbling stomach.
Would she be able to keep their secret? How could she possibly be in the same room with him without everyone knowing how she felt. It would be written across her face.
Her stomach turned over with anticipation. They must maintain that veneer of cold detachment. But her heart would know. Her mind would remember.
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